Stasia Holmes: The Beginning
by I'mNotCrazyTheWorldIs
Summary: A girl comes to 221B on a slow day, and she just happens to know Sherlock, very well. Her name is Stasia Holmes, and she is in trouble. Moriarty is after her. Can Sherlock help her? Set after the Blind Banker, Sherlock may be OOC
1. Chapter 1

This takes place sometime in season one, after the Blind Banker. Sherlock may be a little OOC around Stasia, but you'll see why. I don't own Sherlock, Watson, Mrs. Hudson or anything recognizable, except Stasia and her crazy guardians! ENJOY

221 B BAKER STREET

It was a cold rainy day in the city of London. No clients had come through the infamous door of 221 B Baker Street and Sherlock, being himself, took his mood out on the poor defenseless walls. Bang! "Bored!" Bang "Bored!" With each cry of the detective's mood, a shot went through the wall, shooting from a different angle each time (think the time in "The Great Game") Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs.

"Sherlock! What have you done to my bloody wall! It's going-"

"On my rent, yes I know Mrs. Hudson," the case-less detective said.

"Alright, good. Anyway, there's a young girl downstairs. She said she needed to see you. Something about the Kennelys."

"What does she look like? Don't leave out anything!" Sherlock said, shooting up, interest peaked.

"Well, she seems about 14 or 15, 167 cm **(A/N: 167 cm= 5 feet, 7 inches ((roughly)) Sorry if I confessed you)**. Dark hair, grey-blue eyes, soaked to the bone. I offered her a cuppa something warm, but she insisted on seeing you," the landlady informed the detective.

"Then send the poor girl up!"

"Alright. Alright. I'll send her up! Patience, Sherlock!"

Mrs. Hudson made her way back downstairs while Sherlock hopped up. He started clearing a space on the coffee table and couch. The great detective then ran into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards, looking for something, which, in all likelihood, wouldn't be there.

"Sherlock! What are you doing?" John Watson said as he entered the kitchen.

"Cream! Do we have any cream?" Sherlock said, ignoring the doctor's question.

"Yes. In the refrigerator. Why?"

The front door opened. "Sherlock! Where are you?" The landlady, not a housekeeper, shouted.

"Kitchen!" came the hollered reply.

"Oh, my gosh! He's in the kitchen! The kitchen!" a mystery voice exclaimed. Mrs. Hudson came into the kitchen, followed by the owner of the mystery voice. Mrs. Hudson and a girl with dark curly hair and blue-grey eyes, carrying a backpack walked into the kitchen. The girl was wearing a green t-shirt, dirty jeans, beat up purple Converse, and an old black hoodie that looked at least a size too big on her. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and it looked as if she had had it that way for several days. And she was soaking wet from the rain outside.

"Well this is-"

"Excuse me! I can introduce myself! My name's Stasia. Yes, it's a nickname; no I'm not going to tell you my full name so don't bother asking." She turned to face the detective. "Hi, Sherlock." Stasia said casually.

"Hi, Stasia. You ran away," the detective said. "Really? What gave it away?" Stasia replied sarcastically. "The backpack."

"Sorry, who are you exactly?" a very confused John interjected. "What? Sherlock didn't tell you about me?" "No. I barely know anything about him, next to nothing about Mycroft. So who are you?" Sherlock heaved a deep sigh.

"John, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said, taking Stasia under his arm, "this is my baby sister, Stasia Holmes."

END INTRODUCTION

That's the introduction, I hope you liked it, please read and review! Let me know if you have any advice, and yes Sherlock is OOC, I know that. P.S. I need a beta!


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the long wait. My computer died. Anyway, more to come. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Begin Chapter 2

The room fell silent. "What?" said John after the news had sunk in. "I'm his sister. Honestly, how thick _is_ your skull?" Stasia said.

"Sherlock, you never told me you had a sister," Mrs. Hudson said, more confused than she let on. "Yeah, why didn't you tell us?" John inquired, broken out of his daze. "That is a question for another time, but the real question is, why did you leave?" the dectective said, turning to face his sister. "Well…" she said, eyes flitting between Sherlock, John, Mrs. Hudson, and back again to Sherlock.

"Tell me," Sherlock said, placing his hands on Stasia's shoulders, his tone gentler. "Ils ont juste continué à boire et à jouer et ils ont juste continué à frapper et frapper-"**(A/N: Rough translation: They just kept on drinking and gambling and they just kept on hitting and hitting) **the girl said in French, her voice breaking, on the verge of tears.

"It's ok Stasia, it's ok," Sherlock said, pulling his sister into a hug. John and Mrs. Hudson, not speaking the same language as the girl, looked at each other.

"Sherlock speaks French?" John mouthed to Mrs. Hudson. "I don't know, I guess," the landlady mouthed back.

"Do you still carry chocolate bars with you, we have cream," the world's only consulting detective informed they crying girl, holding her at arms' length. "Well, yeah, of course. I need chocolate like you need a case: Desperately and always!" she replied, smiling a big, happy smile, and Mrs. Hudson, knowing the nature of Sherlock, couldn't help but laugh.

"So that's why you were in the kitchen," a slightly less confused John said. "Yes, now come on, let's get you warmed up," a less moody and bored Sherlock said, leading the girl into the kitchen.

"Well, at least we know he's human," Mrs. Hudson said, smiling, as the duo went into the kitchen. "Oh yes. I'll alert the press," John said, still not totally comprehending the whole situation. "I heard that John!" Sherlock shouted from the kitchen. "Achoo!" A very loud sneeze rang out. "Bless you!" John yelled out of habit.

"Dear, why don't you go into the bathroom and put on something dry. It'll do you good," Mrs. Hudson, her usual sweet self said. **(A/N: Sweet self said, try saying that 5 times fast, I dare ya!) **

"Yes, well I would but I don't have anything else clean, my other shirt is covered in mud and I only had this pair of jeans," Stasia said, a little sheepishly, walking back into the room. Sherlock followed with two steaming mugs. "Well, I'm sure I can dig something up!" Mrs. Hudson said, making her way downstairs to her apartment.

"I have a few questions," John said, raising his had like a school boy. "OK. Shoot," Stasia said, sitting on the couch next to Sherlock. "Who are you exactly?"

Stasia let a small sigh and then said, "My name is Anastasia Marie Holmes, I was born in London on 13 June 1995 **(A/N: I'm under the assumption that this series is set in 2010, so that's how I'm going to base the years.) **I lived in Paris from the time I was 3 to the time I was 14, I think Mycroft is annoying, I love London, but Paris is superb. My mother taught me to cook, Sherlock taught me to play the violin. I love books and I hate redundancy, and I can shoot almost any firearm. I am almost as smart as Sherlock, but he won't admit it. Anything else?"

"Um, yeah, actually. Though that did answer a lot of my questions. Thanks." John said, taken aback slightly at the amount of information given as a response to his question. "You're welcome. What's the other question?" she said, taking a sip from her mug. "Why don't you live here? With your parents I mean."

"Well, my father is very annoying, and he doesn't think much of me, he thinks I should just grow up and get married and my mother… well…" she said, trailing off. "Oh," was all John could say.

Sherlock, who had been, up until this point, sitting quietly on the sofa sipping from the mug, said, "So John, any more of your silly questions?"

"No, that's all for now."

"Wonderful, now, I would like a word with my sister if you don't mind," Sherlock said, implying that John should leave. John, understanding, stood up and left the duo.

"Now, why didn't you call? You know you can always call," Sherlock said, concert slightly noticeable in his voice.

"I would've, but the electricity was cut and they sold my phone. I'm sorry," Stasia said, not actually needing to apologize for anything.

"Stasia, it's fine, you don't need to be sorry. You don't have to go back there, you know."

"Yeah I do because there is no way in _hell_ I am living with Father, and I will never ever even consider living with Mycroft!" the girl said, temper flaring.

"That's not what I meant, you could live here. At Baker Street. I'm not letting you go back to that awful home."

"Are you serious? Are you actually serious?" Stasia said, jumping up off the sofa, smiling at her brother.

"Well yes. Mrs. Hudson does have another apartment, 221 D, I don't think you want to live in C, it's in the basement and-"

"Nope, no way I am living in the basement! No way, no how!"

"Alright, alright!"

"Where's your skull? I remember you having a skull," Stasia said, looking around the room.

"Mrs. Hudson took it."

"What did I take?" said landlady asked as she came up the stairs.

"His skull," Stasia replied.

"Yes I did. Now I'm sorry if this is a little big, but I did find a nightgown you can wear while your clothes are in the wash," the older woman said, handing the new girl said nightie. "Thank you," said Stasia, not used to the show of kindness.

"The bathroom is just over there, I'll put your clothes in the wash for you." Stasia made her way to the bathroom, leaving her brother and the landlady in the other room.

"Mrs. Hudson, could Stasia stay here? In 221 D? I need to keep an eye on her."

"Yes of course. Poor dear, she'll catch cold if she stays in those damp clothes much longer."

"Thank you. Thank you, you don't know how much this means," Sherlock said, giving her a quick hug.

"Well, this is an interesting look," Stasia said, walking back into the room. The nightgown came down to the floor and the sleeves were too long. Stasia carried her folded hoodie, t-shirt, jeans and socks with her Converse on top of the stack. "Here, let me take those," Mrs. Hudson said, taking the pile and handing back the shoes.

"Wait, here's the other shirt," Sherlock said, tossing the shirt to Stasia, who folded it robotically and handed it to Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, my god! It's like looking at Sherlock as a teenager in a dress!" John said from the doorway. Stasia couldn't help but laugh. "Everyone always said that we looked a lot alike," Stasia said, laughing.

"Now, which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Um, Afghanistan," John said, a bit perplexed. "Oh, please, it's so obvious. And I haven't even begun to tell you everything. You're a doctor, with a recovering leg, war vet, you blog about Sherlock, and you use an electric razor. You are also very confused," Stasia said, shocking John.

"Yes, that's all true. How did you know about the blog?"

"Internet, duh! And that's not cheating, that's thinking," Stasia explained as she plopped down on the sofa. "Mmmm. Even better than I remembered," she said, taking a sip from her mug.

"What is that exactly?" John asked.

"Hot chocolate. Family recipe," Sherlock said, sitting down in the chair.

"You, Sherlock Holmes. Drinking hot chocolate?"

"Yes," came the response from said man.

"Achoo!" Stasia sneezed again. "Bless you," John said once again.

"Do you have any food?" Stasia said, sniffling. "Yes. John apparently needs to eat in order to function." "Any chicken, vegetables and pasta?" "All of the above. Why?" said John.

"Mum's chicken noodle soup?" Sherlock said. "Oh yeah!" Stasia said enthusiastically. A knock came from the door. "I'll get it," Stasia said, adjusting the sleeves of the nightie.

"Sherlock, there's been- Who are you?" the voice of DI Lestrade said, confusion obvious in his voice.

"Lestrade, this is Stasia, Stasia, this is the slightly smarter than average Detective Inspector. He works at Scotland Yard," Sherlock explained, not actually answering the full extent of the question.

"Yeah, well, ok. Anyway, Sherlock, there's a man in Minsk, Belarus, says he needs you to clear his name," Lestrade said, trying to ignore the teenage girl in the oversized nightgown standing in front of him.

"Alright. Stace, you coming?" Sherlock said, turning to face his sister.

"Um, don't really have anything to wear."

"So, borrow a pair of trousers from Mrs. Hudson, get a clean t-shirt and grab a coat!"

"Coat and trousers, ok. But where am I going to get a t-shirt, my wardrobe is in the wash."

Sherlock sighed. "Anastasia Marie Holmes, think! Did I ever say it would be one of your shirts?"

"No…"

"Precisely," Sherlock said as he walked into his room. He came back out holding a grey t-shirt and a pair of black socks.

"Mrs. Hudson!" the consulting detective yelled down the stairs, "Do you have a pair of trousers and a coat Stasia could borrow?"

Mrs. Hudson came halfway up the stairs, and said, "Yes, I do."

"Stasia," Sherlock said, gesturing for her to follow the landlady.

"Lestrade, get out of my flat!" Sherlock said, pushing the DI down the stairs and out of 221B.

"Oh what have I gotten myself into?" John said to no one in particular, rubbing his face with his hands.

END CHAPTER 2


	3. I'm sorry

Attention to my readers,

I'm soooo sorry I haven't updated but my dad was in the hospital and I have had a lot of stuff at school (projects and standardized tests). Also, I've been having a lot of personal problems in my life, so I'm so sorry. Life just hasn't been good to me lately.

A message from my friend, if you like the show Pucca, then check out my friend SaphireDragonHuntress's story. (LOL I'm using her computer to type this.)

My apologies

INCTWI


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